Through The Curtain
Through
Filmy curtains
I sense
The brush
Of my mother’s hand
Gentle
Not rough
As in life
Maybe
Making amends
I don’t know
We were not
Nearly as close
As we should have been
Certainly
She is shaping
My fate
Like hints of sunlight
Dancing in shadow
Close my eyes
Brush
Momma
Brush
©2014 Jill Baker
Snapshots 
The higher powers that be. God. Angels. However you choose to honor that which cannot be seen, but felt, like tickles down your spine or an unreleased sneeze, those moments when we are touched by the indescribable, give us great faith that beauty and reconciliation lie beyond death. Choose to let it in…let it in